deviant art

Deviant Login
Buy ArtBuy T-Shirts & Gear Buy adCast Buy Premium Membership
Shop
 Join deviantART for FREE Take the Tour
[x]
RelapseIt’s like counting
Saturn’s rings,
hash marks
along your limbs -
remembering a time
when

‘just one more’

made you feel better.

- & you’re sitting there
wondering why
Draco, stuck in limbo
always looks like he’s

falling.
Battle in my MindEat.
    Don't eat.
Take it easy.
        Work out until you pass out.
Get help.Tell someone.
            Keep it a secret. It's only for you and me.
You're perfect.
                You're worthless.
You're beautiful.
                    You're disgusting.
Why won't you listen?
                        They don't understand.
Let me help you.
                            You don't understand.
Show me.
                                No!
I love you..
                                   
WorthlessWorthless,
the name that cuts like a knife,
Me,
it's all that you see inside,
My heart,
is breaking with every breath I take
The lies,
the only thing I can't seem to face.
Ode to the boy with diamonds for eyesI think we were a collision course waiting to happen
And when I think back to the day when we first
Stumbled across one another, red sneakers hanging off gutters
Cherry cola voice overs and dilated pupils
We led one another on to believe in the night sky of connect the dot constellations

You wanted to dissect me and peer into the insides of my lungs
Only to find witches breath and dandelions
Slicing iron vowels you locked your hands in mine
And we fell into the static of dreaming disease
The operating table broke away to reveal a sky that never existed
And we couldn't help but laugh at the irony
Because wishing was never an option
The ane
In The Daylight
In The Daylight

A false downfall
An unexpected revival

Sunset to moonset
Shining through darkness

Life...redefined
Death...redesigned

In the valley of promises- I will fear no end
On the brink of weakness- I will ascend
-
Roads of the toughest
Paths of the darkest

I conditioned my flawed limits
So fearful memories won't be paralytic

I had to raise my own spirit
Strength and endurance become so vivid

A chance for change / A moment of fate
A time to make peace / A brief feeling of creed
A sealing of my slate / A silencing of my mistakes
A secret ready to be freed / A chain soon-to-be incomplete

Pain and peace are infinite
Judge the wrat
Our MasksThe masks we wear are perfect
Never loose and rarely tight
They keep us safe from others
And keep our demons out of sight

They smile when we are broken
And laugh when we simply must
No blemish or imperfection
A creation that will never rust.

I seldom ever remember
Who I am without my mask
That to peel off that layer
Is such a daunting task

All others carry one as well
Wherever they may go
And no matter what is on their minds
Only the molded mask will show.

The lies they preach in public
Or the scars along their wrists
Are left mute to others knowledge
Ignorance is such a splendid gift

My mask is oh so perfect
Not a crack will show
Alway
wallflower clippingsthere's scar tissue in her throat,
swollen around the words she never said;
dark rings around her eyes
like planets unremembered, and
a staleness to her touch,
the crystalline Dead Sea.

she's living like a story
that's already been told
"if no one loved you
would you mean anything at all?"

in that moment,
we forget to exist.
One special personEveryone leaves you.
Everyone gives up.
Everyone stops loving you, and stops believing in you, and stops caring about you.
Everyone will say something to hurt you.
Everyone will eventually agree with you when you say “I feel worthless”.
And everyone will eventually say something about you.
And everyone will hurt you intentionally.
Everyone leaves you.
And everyone gives up.

But one person, one special person
Will never leave you.
Will never give up on you.
Will never stop loving you, and never stop believing in you, and never stop caring about you.
Never say anything to hurt you.
Never let you say “I feel worthless”,
LonelyLonely.
Unnoticed.
People don't even look
when they walk by.
Always ignored...
Nobody even asks my ideas,
my opinion.
Nobody even knows
who I am.
When people see me,
they either ignore me,
or ask a question:
"Who are you?"
But they don't even bother
to listen to my response:
"I'm Canada."
Forgotton.
Forgotton by everyone.
Forgotton by my friends, my allies.
Maybe one day
Someone will remember my name.
Canada.
We are the King and Queen of Broken DreamsStanding still in a mine field, staring at all we have left.
We were so young, we didn’t stop to think.
Now we’re in a car crash, teetering on the brink.
If you were to leave me now, I don’t know what I’d do.
 
It was a whirl wind romance,
A light when all was black, a spark of something when all was bleak.
You swept me off my feet and made me feel brand new.
I thought we could live forever and I’m certain you did to.
 
We built a house without foundations
And now we’re falling down,
Everything’s crumbling around us, time slipping through out fingertips.
People used to walk past us but they were to drunk to see,
That our lives are coming apart around us, there is no light as far as we can see.
 
There was no fire to start with,
Just two broken things, the world had left behind.
The casualties of other people’s dreams of power, money and control,
Spat out onto the curb to rot away and die.
We never stood a chance or so
Her SideTomorrow she'll be gone,
but what can you say?
Nothing can help her.
The pain won't go away.

But she would've stopped,
you could've said no.
That's what she wanted,
someone to say don't go.

That someone wanted her,
or at least would try.
That someone would grieve
if she were to die.

But you just stared,
nodding your head,
and she realized the truth
with a feeling of dread.

No one wanted her.
No one cared.
Not even you,
with the the love you shared.

So she said good-bye,
and you watched her leave.
She may have had the rope,
but now you can't breathe.
Falling off the EdgeDo you know what it feels like?
To nearly fall off the edge,
but not quite...
just so that you're dangling;
clinging for your worthless life
lest it fall into the sea of loneliness.
Your callused, pink fingers turning
to a shade of purplish-red of pain
as it does it best to hold on.

Splash.

In the sea of loneliness,
everything is crisp, translucent.
There is nothing around you,
you are alone...
unlike other people,
you have no one
clamouring to save you;
you have no one
diving in to get you out.

There is no point
screaming for help,
you will only waste
the little time and air you have left.
You only have the darkness
of the sea envelop
Lost In ConfusionLost In Confusion

My mind is spinning without a rest
Emotions whirl and twirl around
A merry-go-round gaining speed
Until the world blurrs before my eyes
What's happening? What's going on?

The simplest thought slips away
Right from my mind, fading so fast
Trying to focus, I stare and stare
Until my eyes are heavy and unclear.
I don't understand, what is going on..

Emotions rise and fall again
Within the blink of an eye
I'm crying, laughing, and depressed
A roller-coaster ride that never ends
Am I losing my mind in this?

I try to close my eyes and rest
But the world spins me around
I feel like I am failing this test
Voices and noises echo
Best DiseaseWaves crash through the emptiness that fills the air around
Beating rocks upon the shore with silence as their sound
Sunset melts across the sky and paints the clouds with color
Lying there beside you, something wondrous like no other
Suddenly, the blades start slicing through my very skin
Every knife upon your tongue that came from far within
Running through the thickest forest, dirt rests in my cuts
Throwing knives into my flesh, the blade coated in rust
And though you are the one that scarred me, brought me to my pain
I continue dreaming of our kiss inside the rain
Maybe you have broken me, and maybe you’re  impure.
But your love i
Deactivatedthere are voids and black holes
and wounds,
papercuts sinking deep into
finger fissures
only to meet the unmarred love
of bones, strong and
bare and pure.

dark oceans are bleached
into tears that leave nothing
but sea salt in my lips

and my words are injustice
to the death of
your poetry.

this is me
drowning,
trying to be
you

trying to preserve the ardor
of your words
and the honey sweet taste
of your passion

it's also
how my lungs work
(when I don't read something from you
I die more than a little on the inside).
Browse More Like This
more ▶

More from ^Kaz-D

I thought I knew my death.I thought I knew my death. He grabbed my heart one day and squeezed tightly, banded fear wrapping its way around my body and terrorizing the air from my lungs. "Not..Like..This.." I would gasp, thinking that there must be some better way out. I would start to beg but it would soon be over. He'd release me and my body would give up. There would be nothing left to say.

I thought I knew my death. She would slip into the shadows some months before I thought my time was up. She would slowly take my memories for my own, replacing them with child's talk and nonsensical things. "Oh please, won't somebody help me." It would be a rhetoric, although I
The Death of LanguageThey say that every fourteen days, a language dies. The statistic isn't alarming, after all there are supposedly seven thousand languages in the world. That a language dies every two weeks, is just a statistic. The concern comes with the knowledge that a language dies because it has been forgotten. Thus it dies without recognition, without farewell and without acknowledgment. It was merely there before, a communication bridge once upon a literary dream - now a nothing. This fascinating tool that we use to interact with our fellow human beings is lost. And we don't care. The Eskimos, they say, had a hundred words for snow.
That favourite pair of shoes that you love all the holes and splits into because they are so perfect and fit you so well - gets a better send off than a language. That coat that's become too small or too big, or too much last years fashion and too little of this years craze gets more of a farewell than a languag
Sea Glass and SandThe only day she could recall that they lived without fear, was a trip to the beach when the children were small. It was late September and an Autumnal breeze whipped skirts and peeled their long blonde hair back from their heads without mercy. Nobody complained though. They spread blankets on the fine sand and despite the chill the sun warmed them briefly - just enough to get by. That was all she ever would ask for. They drank hot chocolate from the cafe and didn't eat the grainy sandwiches that she had lovingly packed that morning. Instead they bought fish and chips and shared a carton of mushy peas, warm and sweet. The children swam in waves that gently caressed the shore. Whilst she pretended to read but really kept two well trained eyes on the bobbing heads, they hunted sea glass and sand dollars. When they finally heeded her calls to the beach they were shivering and salty, their hair knotted and woven with the ocean. She enveloped them in bright blue towels and instantly the sme
InsomniaFrom the day they had met until the day she died he had always known she was an insomniac. Her most entertaining emails and their deepest conversations were exchanged across many late night hours. So when they told him she had died peacefully in her sleep, it was only natural that he questioned his very existence and everything else on this earth that he had thought to be true.
Grief came and became increasingly difficult to shake off when the day came to a close and he wanted to sleep. He could only think of life, of the life in her. He could only think about how touching her was like wading into a lake in the Summer and bending forward to capture the ripples as they danced across the surface of the water. Impossible in your thoughts - but achievable when you put your mind to it.
Yet alone at night without her body alive with energy and aching to write beside him, he felt empty. It was during these times that he understood they
Seven days in AutumnEarl Carlton died in a tree-house of vines, twisted boughs and Autumn leaves surrounded by the scent of earth and vanilla musk. His wife cried for him at the foot of his rope ladder and begged him to come to bed each night as the mercury dropped and the storm clouds rolled in.
"I can't" He eventually responded on the 3rd night and by that time, people had gathered in earnest to witness the man's downfall.
"Why not?"demanded his wife, shivering in wool with her hair whipped behind her by the prevailing winds.
He thought about this for another four nights and the crowds grew bigger and each time his wife begged him to come down and be amongst the people once more. He beckoned her closer on the seventh night and she unsteadily stepped onto the lowest rung of the ladder, tottering precariously.
"I can't come down," He shouted across the high winds, "Because if I do, nobody will ask for me anymore."
A murmur of admi
And then there was oneThey didn't sound like gunshots. That's all she remembered thinking at the time. The bitter noise slicing through the hazy summer evening started off like a gunshot but ended up as something sharp. Perhaps somebody had dropped something on a building site across the Valley. That's what she allowed herself to think the first three times she heard it. Then the traffic on the distant motorway stopped, the echoing vibrations of cars racing home abruptly finished. Noise stopped traveling down through the trees and across the length of the river. The sky, which had begun the day as a cobalt blue had morphed into slate grey. The sound came again, but this time it wasn't alone. It didn't sound like gunshots. That's all she could think of, when the door splintered and there they were.

Featured in Groups:

Not currently featured in any groups.

Details

January 2
Sta.sh Writer
Link
Thumb

Statistics

Comments: 4
Favourites: 12 [who?]


Views: 517 (0 today)
[x]

Memory

:iconkaz-d:

Because there is only one of you;
in all of time
there is a need to preserve like a pickle;
the things that I love.
:iconkaz-d:
Well, I haven't written for a while. I always thought that love and being in love would provoke all kinds of inspiration inside of me to pour out my thoughts, my feelings and lots of mushy things. But yet, I don't have the time for all of that. I'm in Love.
Add a Comment:
 
Preview   Add Comment
:iconbeccalicious:
Critique by ^Beccalicious Jan 3, 2013, 10:06:10 AM
As a whole, I feel the heart behind this piece, but I think it needs a little more attention.

Firstly, this piece is struggling to stand as poetry- in fact it feels more like flash fiction than a poem; it needs a stronger image, especially if you want to keep the brevity of it. I also feel like there could be more passion behind the words.


Even though this is already short, it could be even briefer yet still have the same effect. Here is one example, but it is worth playing with the words:


in all of time
there is only you;
a need to preserve
the things I love.

Also, you might what to revise the punctuation- is it supposed to be one full on sentence?

The idea of preserving love is a nice one, and I feel using that as your strong image could be the crux of this poem. Try not to use "like a" in poetry- its often an easy way to create imagery, but not original.

I understand this is a personal piece and you may not want to change anything, but there's opportunity to develop the piece and I hope you consider doing so :)
What do you think?
Fair Unfair
The Artist thought this was FAIR
12 out of 12 deviants thought this was fair.
No Replies

:iconkathrynodriscoll:
Critique by `KathrynODriscoll Jan 2, 2013, 9:04:35 PM
I love the concept, the pickling. It reminds me of a similar concept I wrote about using butterfly nets to pin down memories of love. Its original and I like it.

However you jut need a quick punctuation check because currently one of your sections reads like this

"in all of time there is a need to preserve like a pickle"

Which I don't think is what you intended. I think you meant to have 'in all of time' in a insubordinate clause, so it would be

"Because there is only one of you,
in all of time,
there is a need to preserve, like a pickle,
the things that I love."

That's just my opinion and remember I'm no punctuation fiend so maybe ask your watchers for their thoughts before changing it, but I think thats how it should be.
What do you think?
Fair Unfair
The Artist thought this was FAIR
1 out of 1 deviants thought this was fair.
No Replies

The Artist has requested Critique on this Artwork

Please sign up or login to post a critique.

love 1 1 joy 0 0 wow 0 0 mad 0 0 sad 0 0 fear 0 0 neutral 0 0
:icondemonmathiel:
Mood: Love `DemonMathiel Jan 3, 2013   Photographer
:clap:
Reply
:iconkaz-d:
^Kaz-D Jan 14, 2013  Hobbyist Photographer
:)
Reply
:iconthegalleryofeve:
=TheGalleryOfEve Jan 2, 2013  Hobbyist Digital Artist
AAAaaaaaaahhh!!! :love: That is so sweet! :love: ... I'm so happy for you, Katy! :iconaawplz:
Reply
:iconkaz-d:
^Kaz-D Jan 14, 2013  Hobbyist Photographer
:heart:
Reply
Add a Comment:
 
Preview   Add Comment
©2013 deviantART. All rights reserved
About Us | Contact Us | Developers | Careers | Site Tour | Help & FAQ Advertise | Premium Membership Etiquette | Privacy Policy | Terms of Service | Copyright Policy